Flash
by Vermillion Dragonfly
Summary: that something borrowed just happens to be your heart, miss méline. TT.


Flash

It was his first time seeing the bride in her wedding gown.

He was three hours late, and should have been taking pictures of her getting ready. Instead, Gouma Magatarou had ended up getting distracted by multiple things on his way: a beautiful street singer and then running for his life from her angry boyfriend, a contortionist who kept his attention for at least an hour, a florist who was very pretty but was unfortunately taken by some bitter violent guy, and a badass martial arts woman who taught him the basics of karate.

But he was there, and was going to apologize profusely for being so late. Caellum, his business partner in his photography studio, would slaughter him if he dropped the ball on this. They were both fresh out of college, and this was their first substantial job. Thomas Killian was a French socialite who had plenty of money to blow on needless things, such as the incredibly expensive wedding Gouma was technically invited to. After all, who has enough money to get married in _Notre Dame_?

As much as Gouma wanted to take in the sights, he was already three hours late. He wanted to get a picture of the bride before she stepped out onto the ivory satin laid out between the pews. Taking a few pictures before asking where the bride was located, he made sure not to get distracted this time. He saw a few beautiful ladies standing outside, and assuming they were the bridesmaids, he asked them where the bride was. It was tough to understand their panicked French, but he eventually got the gist and headed to the room.

He heard a sniffling. The bride had a cold? Ugh, that sucked! Well, at least Caellum could photoshop the hell out of the redness.

"Photographer coming in!" He chirped, opening the door. Gouma froze in the doorway as the bride turned around and looked at him. She didn't have a cold. She was crying. Uhhh … shit. The Japanese photographer was a womanizing pervert, but he'd never been in a serious relationship or had any female friends. He didn't know how to console a woman.

Figuring she needed her privacy, he stepped inside the room and closed the door behind him. "Wait..." He should've stepped _outside_. "My bad!"

He heard a laugh, and looked to the bride, who was staring at him. She waved at him. "It's okay, I'm almost done." There was mascara and eyeliner running down her face, and her eyes were bloodshot. The mascara had dripped onto her dress and left a messy black stain on the pure white. She was clutching onto a box of Kleenex, and it was obvious she had been generous with the tissues since there were smears trailing from her eyes.

Gouma thought she looked beautiful.

So much so, that he was stunned as to what to say next. Good thing she had something to say instead. "You're late, you know."

"Yeah, I was just checking out – uhhh, interviewing some lovely ladies on my way here!" The photographer exclaimed, and then exhaled. Wow, the one time he burst in on a changing room (granted, the bride was dressed) and he _wasn't _getting chased out with a stiletto.

"Anyway, uh," Gouma walked to the washroom that was connected to the room they were in, "You can't walk out like that!" He grabbed a towel and wetted it, walking back outside and pressing it to the black stain on her dress.

"Giselle Méline, by the way," She quietly introduced herself, and then laughed. "That's the last time I'm ever going to say my maiden name…" She sighed, her voice laced with regret.

"I've done weddings before. If the bride doesn't feel right on her wedding day, then don't marry the guy!" Gouma smiled, "Haha, you can runaway! Don't do what society expects out of ya – that's poppycock!" Giselle looked up at him, her gaze blank, registering what he just said.

They were cut short by a woman stepping in. "Bride, it's your time. You've got two minutes." She stepped back out, completely oblivious to the fact that Giselle was upset as hell.

"Runaway to where?" She asked. He winked at her and held his hand out. His heart was breaking his ribcage it was beating so fast against his chest.

_'The National Womanizer's Association would definitely approve!' _Was his reassuring mantra to himself. His smile didn't falter despite the feelings he felt bubbling up.

"Come on, I'll show you."


End file.
